


Silver

by james



Category: Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Extremis, Fluff, Humor, M/M, tiramisù
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27071167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/james/pseuds/james
Summary: Tony is working when his husband rudely interrupts him.  RUDE.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 13
Kudos: 104
Collections: Tony Stark Bingo Mark IV





	Silver

**Author's Note:**

> Title of Fill: Silver  
> Collaborator: James  
> Card Number:4015  
> Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/27071167/  
> Square Filled: R5, comic pic of silver fox Tony Stark  
> Ship/Main Pairing: Tony Stark/Steve Rogers  
> Rating: Teen  
> Major Tags/Warnings/Triggers: None/Fluff  
> Summary: Tony is working when his husband rudely interrupts him.  
> Word Count: 1717

Tony was only vaguely aware of someone walking into the room, if only because the office he was in was smaller than his more usual “penthouse suite CEO” office, and partly because he had been forced to put the desk so it faced the door, so that people interrupting him stood a chance of actually interrupting him.

He focused on his pad, sketching lines of the chassis he was designing until someone pulled it out of his hand.

“What the _fuck._ ” He sat back and glared. “I'm sorry, does it not look like I'm working?”

“Sorry,” Steve said, not looking or sounding sorry in the slightest. He set it back down on the desk – further away from where Tony had had it, and leaned down to kiss him. Tony tolerated it for a moment, before moving back to glare some more. Steve continued to ignore him and ran his fingers through Tony's hair.

“Why did I ever marry you?” Tony demanded. 

Steve shook his head as though wondering the same thing. “Because Pepper cried. I think that's the only reason you actually came out to stand beside me.”

“That woman is a menace. _You_ are a menace.” Tony reached for his pad, which Steve nudged further away. Tony sighed with deep frustration. “What do you _want?_ ”

Steve tilted his head, regarding him for a moment, then sat on the desk and scooted himself over, smoothly blocking Tony's ability to retrieve his pad. Finally he said, “I like the grey.”

“Oh my god, you like the grey, not that you've said so every day for the last three years.” Tony tried to shift his head out of Steve's reach as the man tried to card his fingers through Tony's hair again. 

He'd done it on purpose, using Extremis to age his appearance just a bit. He'd explained that it was becoming harder for people – media, governments, his own Board – to take him seriously when he looked so much younger than they knew him to be. No one thought twice when Captain America still looked twenty-nine, but everyone knew that Tony should be _mature._ People should be listening to him just because he knew what the fuck he was talking about, and every year he didn't look his age, other people who were his age – or younger – treated like he didn't know what he was talking about.

It was all bullshit, of course, but he'd perfected the art of babble until they're confused when he was nine. The truth was he'd been fucking around with his appearance one day and Steve had walked in and stared. And started running his fingers through Tony's hair, kissing his neck, and they'd ended up going back to bed for the rest of the day.

“I like,” Steve was saying, and there went his fingers again and Tony was hard-pressed to keep scowling. Steve leaned in to kiss his jaw. Then he turned his face and bopped his nose into Tony's. He grinned. “I like how you sit in here and pretend to work until I find you and carry you away.”

Tony gasped at him. “I am not pretending--”

“You're designing a chassis for Dum-E,” Steve said. “Which you are never going to build, because whenever you ask him if he wants a new chassis, or body, or a second arm, or any upgrades, he says no.”

Tony frowned, then bit his lower lip. “I might be working.”

“But you're not. You're faking, just like you're faking the grey hair and eye crinkles,” his horrible, maligning husband paused there to give Tony a kiss on his temple. “Because it makes you look hot, and you are one of the vainest creatures I have ever met in my life, and I've been training teenagers for the last ten years.”

“Technically you're not training them, they're minors. You're mentoring them and helping them with after-school activities. Secondly, I am not vain, I just got tired of arguing with--”

Steve cut him off with a kiss, and Tony allowed it, because the sooner he let Steve get on with it, the sooner he could eventually get back to work.

Except, of course, for the part where he was absolutely doing exactly what Steve had said. As long as it kept working, he didn't plan on stopping. When Steve broke the kiss and leaned back again, Tony crossed his arms. “I'm sorry, Mr. Rogers, do you even have an appointment?”

“It's still technically 'Captain' and yes, I do.” Steve gave him a look of perfect innocence that no one who knew him would believe.

Tony blinked. “FRIDAY, does Captain Rogers have an appointment?”

“Yes, Boss. Captain Rogers is booked for your ten o'clock. He requested a five hour meeting and the reservations you asked for have been made, Captain.”

“We're having lunch?” Tony was surprised. “Normally you just carry me off to the bedroom.”

“We are having lunch,” Steve said, and he stood up, moving to the side, and reached down for Tony's hand. He tugged Tony to his feet. “Because you had coffee and two bites of a muffin for breakfast this morning. If I tried to carry you to the bedroom, you'd probably faint halfway through.”

“I wouldn't--” Tony started to explain, again, how Extremis could fuel his body as well as actually eating, he didn't need to eat nearly as often or as much as normal people. But Steve knew all that, and hearing Tony explain him made him frown determinedly then he'd make homemade soup or roast a chicken or do something with potatoes that Tony couldn't even begin to describe. He'd force Tony to eat it, and Tony couldn't say he minded, Steve had learned to cook really well over the last couple of decades. It was the guilt he could do without.

Tony closed his mouth and resisted the urge to use Extremis to check on Steve's reservations. He didn't want to get into an actual argument; Steve was good about Extremis as long as he didn't have to think about it too much, and of course every time Tony used it to save his own life, Steve was loudly grateful. But he had opinions about what he considered trivial uses of Extremis, and Tony had long since given up trying to justify the things he did. Steve knew, but if Tony didn't shove them in his face, he was willing to ignore them.

Tony wasn't sure how Steve justified it to himself that he liked Tony altering his appearance, but he really didn't want to get into a discussion-cum-argument about that. The last time they'd had a real fight they'd gone to separate parts of the continent for two months, before their so-called friends had faked an alien invasion in Kansas to get them back together and talk.

“Where is lunch, then?” he asked, because it was only ten o'clock in the morning in New York, apparently. 

“I made reservations for Tulio's, if you think we can get a flight to Milan.” Steve was grinning again, now, all smug and pleased with himself and Tony couldn't blame him. Steve and Tulio had a semi-friendly competition going – Tulio tried to make more pasta than Steve could eat, and Steve tried to eat everything he was served (and occasionally a bit of what Tony was served.)

So far Steve was still winning, but Tony didn't mind, because he got to eat the planet's best tiramisu while he watched. He wanted to tell Tulio to give it up for lost – but also he thought about inviting Bucky along to help Steve eat, except he was worried the kitchen staff would collapse from over-work if he inflicted both supersoldiers on them at once.

“A flight to Milan, so sudden.” He shook his head as though surprised. Really, he was delighted that Steve had finally, after so many years, come around to the joys of taking an unexpected break and doing something extravagant, just because they could. It helped if he thought he was forcing Tony to take a break, and sometimes he really did make Tony stop working if he'd been at it for more than 20 hours straight. But now it seemed like he was more willing to just play for the sake of playing. 

Tony assumed it was mostly his influence, but it had helped a great deal when the two generations of superheros after them had proven themselves, over and over, of being more than capable of saving the world. They were both still able to do their jobs as Avengers, but for the last few years Captain America and Ironman been mostly consulting, stepping in to help fight when it was convenient or looked particularly interesting.

Or if it was giant robots. Tony had standing orders that he wanted to be notified if anyone was fighting giant robots. He enjoyed submitting critiques to the inventor, after they'd been defeated, and Steve had given up trying to tell him not to harass the poor supervillain.

“Should we steal a Quinjet, or take the Iron Skyway?” he asked, though he suspected he knew the answer.

“I've got my goggles,” Steve said, pulling them out of his back pocket. 

“Then I suppose I'm taking a break from my work, and having lunch. FRIDAY, if anyone asks, I am in a very important meeting and if anyone disturbs us they are paying the lunch bill.”

“You got it, Boss,” FRIDAY said, cheerfully. 

Then Tony summoned his armor out of his skin, and held out his hand to Steve. “Captain Rogers-Stark, may I have the pleasure of your company for lunch,” Tony said.

“You may, Mr. Rogers-Stark.” Steve stepped in close, giving Tony one last kiss before the mask closed over Tony's face.

“I am eating my weight in tiramisu,” Tony warned him. “We better have hotel reservations as well so I don't have to move, afterwards.”

Steve just laughed. “I think something can be arranged to help you work it off.”

“It had better,” Tony said. “I haven't been re-designing a useless chassis all morning for nothing.”

Then he walked them to the window, which FRIDAY opened for them, and Steve stepped onto his boots. And then, it was open sky, and his husband clinging to him as they sailed across the ocean.


End file.
